


After the Mission

by Anonymous



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angry Sex, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Deke tries to do something stupid on a mission, F/M, Not Canon Compliant, Smut, Vaginal Sex, almost entirely smut tbh with a sprinkling of plot and feelings on top, and Daisy is NOT having it, like save her life, takes place somewhere in s5 or 6 idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:53:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25995535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “You just want to play the hero,” she accuses. “And it’s notcool. It’s notmacho. It’s fuckingannoying.” She’s angry, he’s angry, and she’s still too keyed up, post-mission adrenaline pumping through her veins. Extra energy, just looking for somewhere to burn it.The same place she always seems to burn it, lately.It’s the only fucking reason she wouldeverbe caught ogling Deke Shaw like this.
Relationships: Deke Shaw/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31
Collections: Anonymous





	After the Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno how this happened, but here y'all go.

“ _You_.” She stalks through the open door to his bunk, still wearing her Quake suit though she’d divested herself of the gauntlets as soon as they were off the Quinjet. Deke looks up at the sound of her voice, but not fast enough to avoid the hard shove she gives him, practically vibrating with anger. “What the hell was that?”

He swears, stumbling, before righting himself and returning her glare with one of his own. “Uh, you mean, ‘saving your life’?”

“I didn’t ask you to protect me,” Daisy reminds him, voice scathing. “In fact, I specifically told you not to—”

“Oh, yeah, that’s what S.H.I.E.L.D.’s about,” he scoffs. “ _Not_ protecting the person next to you, that’s totally what Mack said in my agent briefing—”

“You already took a bullet for me; what, is one hole through your shoulder not enough?” she demands.

“You already tried to leave yourself behind in the future; is one sacrifice play not enough?” The angry light in his eyes gives his face a harder cast, stripping it of its normal boyishness. Her eyes catch on the sharp angle of his jaw, the curve of his lips, until she forces her gaze up to meet his again.

“You just want to play the hero,” she accuses. “And it’s not _cool_. It’s not _macho_. It’s fucking _annoying._ ” She’s angry, he’s angry, and she’s still too keyed up, post-mission adrenaline pumping through her veins. Extra energy, just looking for somewhere to burn it.

The same place she always seems to burn it, lately.

It’s the only fucking reason she would _ever_ be caught ogling Deke Shaw like this.

“Hero?” Deke laughs, a hard, almost cruel sound that is foreign coming out of his mouth. “No. I’m a survivor, and Renew me for just wanting my _friends_ to survive too.”

“Friends?” she replies, stepping closer to spit the words right in his face, well aware of the harshness of her own breathing, the heat that is not entirely anger pooling low in her stomach. “We’re not _friends_.”

“Oh, I know,” he growls, edging forward until there’s mere centimeters between them. He knows this dance as well as she does, and there’s a reason they’re both standing in his bunk of all places to exchange barbs and blows. “The minute anyone gets close—”

She jabs a finger into his chest. “Not anyone. Just you.” Daisy casts one hand out to the side and quakes the door shut with a _bang_.

“Oh yeah, totally not me—” Deke says with the audacity to smirk down at her, and then she’s slamming him into the wall, both hands on his chest, her mouth colliding with his and knocking their teeth together. She kisses him hot and hungry and brutal, then bites his lip hard enough to draw blood. He hisses but opens for her anyway, his hands on her waist, pulling her closer. She fucks her tongue into the warm, wet depths of his mouth, anger simmering into something _else_ that sparks within her, lighting up her veins. Kissing him is intoxicating, a better high than being drunk, a heady feeling that makes everything else go hazy and unimportant save for the heat of his body pressed up against hers. One of his hands finds her ass and squeezes, and she responds by grinding her hips against him, heat flooding her core as his pants turn painfully restrictive.

Deke whines into her mouth, his other hand cupping her breast, his thumb somehow finding her nipple and rubbing against it through the padding of her Quake suit. His fingers fumble for the zipper at the base of her neck, and she lets him go long enough to grab it and yank it down herself. He shoves the material off her shoulders and she lets it fall to the ground somewhere behind them, attacking his shirt as soon as her arms are free. She rips it open with a sharp tug, and a button goes skittering across the floor, giving her access to his bare chest.

“I just got that shirt,” he complains, hands already underneath her black tank top and dragging it upward, working on divesting her of that as well.

“You just got all these shirts,” Daisy says, lifting her arms and allowing him to tug it up and over her head. The tank top lands in a heap with the rest, his eyes dark and raking over the top of her tanned breasts appreciatively. Her bra is black and simple and utterly utilitarian—because she does not dress up for _Deke fucking Shaw_ —but he doesn’t seem to mind. Daisy takes the opportunity while he’s distracted to palm the bulge in his pants, giving him a squeeze, and Deke hisses, his hips jolting forward. Smirking, she does it again, watching as his eyes flutter shut briefly.

He growls, his fingers tangling with the clasp of her bra before pulling it off completely. His mouth falls to her breasts, laving his tongue over one hard nipple and then the other, causing Daisy to sigh, her nails scraping over his back and the hard planes of his abs. His hands are on her ass again when she sucks at the pulse point on his neck that drives him crazy, then bites the juncture between his neck and shoulder for good measure, feeling his fingers clench over her asscheeks, enjoying how easy it is to get him worked up.

Her hands drop to his belt buckle, working quickly. His mouth falls away from her breast with a small pop as she succeeds in getting his pants undone, shoving them down at the same time as his boxers and allowing his cock to spring free. He’s about to say something, probably something stupid or sappy or _both_ , but she grasps him in one hand and strokes him firmly instead, giving a quick twist of her wrist at the end in the way she knows he likes. His hips jerk uncontrollably in response, his teeth coming together with a sharp _click_ as his head falls forward. His pupils are wide and completely blown now, and she repeats the motion a few more times before dropping to her knees in front of him. Daisy licks a stripe along the underside of his cock, running her tongue teasingly along the shaft, and hears him groan above her.

“Fuck, _Daisy_.”

“That’s kind of the idea,” she snarks, taking him into her mouth, sucking and swirling her tongue around the head. His fingers fist in her hair, tugging not-altogether-gently on the dark strands as he strains with the effort of keeping still and not thrusting into her mouth. Daisy moves her head up and down, then flicks against the tip again, making him gasp, hips stuttering, cock jumping against her tongue. She can take him just like this, she knows, work him until he erupts helplessly in her mouth, sucking him for everything he has as he spurts down her throat. But it is another few moments and he is pushing her off him, swearing. His cock bobs in the air when she releases it, slicked and shiny with her spit.

Her lips are reddened and her hair decidedly more disheveled than before as he drags her upright, spinning them around to push her against the wall instead. Her bare spine connects with the concrete with a smack that is far more pleasure than pain as he moves to stand between her legs. His dick is hard against her, sending a jolt of arousal straight to her core, her underwear already soaked. Deke’s hand grasps her jaw and forces it upwards into a bruising, desperate kiss before groping at the button of her pants, undoing it and shoving the bottom half of the Quake suit down to her ankles.

“Bed,” he growls, and she huffs, nipping at his lips. She lifts one foot at a time to shuck off her boots and step out of the suit. His eyes follow her every movement as she heads for the bed, gaze lingering on the swell of her ass. He hurriedly disentangles himself from his own pants before joining her, pushing her down on the pillows and hovering above her, cock jutting out and straining against his stomach.

He scoots downward and she feels the scrape of his teeth against her hip, sending a shiver through her as he drags her underwear down with his teeth. Deke’s hands force her knees apart and Daisy fixes her eyes on the ceiling as his warm breath ghosts over her pussy, already wet and dripping. His normally annoyingly talkative tongue is next, flicking over her clit, and she bites back a moan. Some of it must escape anyway as he does it again and she can feel his smirk against her pussy lips.

God, she hates him.

“You taste so good,” Deke moans, and she can see from the way his body is twisting that he’s rutting slightly against the mattress, desperate for friction.

Two fingers thrust into her without warning, her walls clamping down on them immediately at the sudden intrusion. The burn gives away to something more pleasurable just in time for him to shove them into her again, causing her hips to cant upward off the bed, back arching, fingers gripping the bedsheets. His tongue swirls around her clit again in time with the harsh movements of his fingers. He crooks them as he withdraws them again, hitting that spot deep inside of her, sending her spiraling higher. He feels so good inside her, but at the same time it’s not enough—

“Fuck,” she mutters, breathing ragged. She tugs at his hair, pussy throbbing and brimming with need, utterly done with the teasing. “Fuck, Deke, come on—”

He groans in agreement, releasing her with one last lick to her clit, and Daisy twists to reach for the drawer of the nightstand, rooting through blindly before coming up with a condom. She tears the little foil packet open carefully with her teeth before handing it to Deke, who rolls it onto his already-leaking cock with shaking fingers. He looks back at her with something softer tempering the lust she finds there. “You’re sure, right? ‘Cause I read about this thing called _consent_ and you have to ask every time—”

Daisy rolls her eyes, locking her legs around his shoulders and flipping him, sending him tumbling into the pillows. She straddles him easily, Deke’s eyes immediately latching onto her breasts as they sway enticingly above him. Taking his erection in one hand, she rubs the head of his cock against her clit, making them both sigh, and then positions him at her entrance. Daisy sinks down in one smooth motion, enjoying the stretch and the way he fills her up, and Deke sucks in a ragged breath at the feeling of her tight wet heat enveloping him, groaning. She draws herself up, then plunges downward again, one of his hands gripping tight to her left hip and the other fondling her breast, teasing and tweaking her nipple.

His hips snap up to meet hers with her next thrust, the only sounds in the room their panting breaths and their skin slapping together lewdly. She lets out a small, choked moan at the motion, and he does it again, hips bucking up into her. Sparks lick their way up her spine, and she rubs herself against him even more insistently, feeling her orgasm edging closer as she rides him. Tension coils at the base of her spine, her movements becoming more erratic as it approaches. His fingers dig into her hips, moving her up and down on his cock, gray eyes wide and mouth panting.

She’s so close…

Heat concentrates in her core before cascading outward through her whole body as her orgasm crashes over her. Daisy’s eyes scrunch shut against the waves of sensation, one hand falling to rub her clit as Deke continues to buck up into her through it, the walls of her pussy spasming and clenching around him. His hands hold her steady until she finally slumps against him, then brace against the bed as he flips them, seeking a better angle to chase his own release. He grunts as he thrusts forward again with renewed rigor, spurred on by the sight of her writhing beneath him, chest heaving, dark hair splayed against the pillow. “God, Daisy, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbles into her breasts.

“Harder,” she gasps out instead, already feeling her pleasure rising within her again, raking her nails over his back and leaving long red marks. His hips snap forward, hers rising up to meet them, and he begins to pound into her harshly. He slams into her again and again, jostling her against the bed. A bead of sweat trickles down her calf, legs spread as wide as they can go and wrapped around him, urging him deeper, harder, faster. She imagines how good she must feel clamped around him, tight and wet and hot as he drives his dick into her each time.

Soon his thrusts begin to get sloppier, more frantic as he gets close to the edge. She clenches down on him because she can, and he whimpers a low keening sound in the back of his throat. “ _Fuck, fuck, Daisy_.” His eyes are desperate, pistoning his hips wildly as he tries to maintain his rhythm. His fingers find her clit, strumming it in time with his thrusts, and Daisy lets out a small cry as her world splinters around her and she comes for a second time. Shockwaves of pleasure emanate from her pussy and her velvety walls squeeze tight around his dick, milking him. He tenses above her, jerking forward once more and spilling into the condom with a long, guttural groan. She can feel him pulsing deep inside of her, can feel the tremble through his entire body before he collapses on top of her.

A few hazy moments later, he rolls off of her, slipping the condom off and tying it before dropping it in the trashcan next to the bed. Daisy lies there on her back for a few seconds more, languid and boneless and blinking up at the ceiling, then pushes herself up and stumbles to the bathroom. She drops onto the toilet seat to relieve herself, then cleans herself up as best she can before grabbing a towel for Deke and heading back out of the bathroom. He’s pushed himself up slightly on the pillows when she emerges, still vaguely glassy-eyed, and she tosses the towel at him, starting to hunt for wherever her underwear landed. She finds it halfway under the foot of his bed and pulls it on, doing the same with her bra a second later.

“Stay?” Deke asks from where he’s watching her on the bed, his voice quiet in the otherwise silent room.

She stops, then looks back at him, something unreadable in his gray eyes. After a moment, she nods, crossing back to the bed and clambering on top of it. He reaches for her and she lets him tuck her body close to his, her head pillowed against the warm crook of his shoulder and her left hand splayed against his bare chest. His fingers trace feather-light designs onto her side just above her hip, and her eyes slip closed almost not of her own volition.

They’re still not friends.

(But there’s always tomorrow.)


End file.
